When Stars Collide, My Starlight
by BoredomIsAnUnderstatement
Summary: Jim asks Spock to see him in his quarters after alpha-shift, but what will Spock do when things go a little too far? One-shot drabble. First-time Star Trek fanfic. Rated T for minor cursing, male/male relationship, and major make-out-session-time. Enjoy.


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ST Title: _When Stars Collide, My Starlight_

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, Gene Roddenberry (did I spell that right?) does, and he will not give it to me, no matter _how_ many times I threaten him-- I-I mean, uh, _ask_ him. . . . Heh-heh-heh. . . .

A.N.: Just a quick, short drabble I did in my first four days of high school. I understand it's suck-ish and Spock seems to have more emotions than necessary, but. . .whatever. I was bored and I had the time, so. . ._nmeh._ *sticks out tongue* Alright, well, other than all of that, enjoy, I suppose.

Pairing: Spock/Kirk (Pure. Star Trek. Awesomeness.) XD

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Sleep was trying to take over me, but I would not let it. No, I was still on duty, and until I was off it, all I could do was wait. I needed a distraction if I was going to be able to stay awake for the rest of the hour. It shouldn't be too hard, of course; I am in control of my actions _and _emotions, and as long as _he's_ here, then I know that that's distraction enough.

Glancing up from my station, I looked over to where he sat. He appeared bored, as he always does when we're simply patrolling, and he looked about as ready to fall asleep as I felt. I could see his mind idly ticking the seconds as they went by until alpha-shift was over. I couldn't help but watch him, trying to figure him out while knowing that I could not. He allowed his emotions to roam free while I kept mine in check; he knew close to nothing about logic while that was what I thrived on most; he could tell a person 'no' and still be their close friend while I was considered to be virtually friendless.

How could we ever work?

A question I still had yet to find the answer to.

Suddenly, a loud buzz resounded, signaling the end of shift and jerking me out of my reverie. I could not understand how it was possible that I could have stared at him for an _hour_! Standing up straight and glancing back down at my work, a light blush graced the tips of my ears. Who was _I_ to think of such things while knowing perfectly well that they were quite impossible? How could I even _process_ an idea that was so. . ._illogical_?

I put away my things and shut down my computer, getting ready to leave and finally get some sleep. Turning around, I spotted him coming my way, and I could literally feel my heart stop beating. What did he want _now_?!

I forced myself to calm down. I did _not_ need a break in my sanity, not now, not ever. "Yes, Captain?" I asked, straining my voice so as not to let it show how tired I was.

"I'd like to see you in my quarters, if that's alright with you," he said to me. It wasn't a request, it was an order made politely.

"Of course, Captain," was my reply.

If my heart didn't start beating soon, then I can only guess what would happen to me within the next three minutes.

"Great. Meet me there in a quarter of an hour," he said. Fascinating. . .in thirty seconds _flat_ he seemed to go from exhausted to flamboyant as if he'd popped an energy pill. As I pondered if there even _was_ such a pill (and where I could find one), I stepped onto the turbo-lift alone, my face a mask of all that was hidden underneath it. When the doors closed and the contraption began to move, I pinched my fingers against the bridge of my nose and leaned upon the wall, trying to force the vivacity back into me through the pain. Once the lift stopped, however, I immediately regained my composure and threw whatever emotions that had come to resurface back into the recesses of my mind.

When would this wild tango of feelings and questions finally end?

Another inquiry I had without an answer to.

I walked into the hallway and ignored the different people that hurried past me, all of them trying to avoid a gaze that was not being given. Finally, I reached my own quarters and I quickly went inside, waiting for the silence and tranquility of my room to wash over me.

It never came.

A gentle hum came to me instead, and with a sigh, I murmured the word "Come" to allow whoever it was in.

A nervous and slightly mousy-looking yeoman entered, biting her lip as her eyes surveyed my personal quarters.

"_Yes_, Yeoman, may I _help_ you?" I asked irritably (well, irritably for _me_, but emotionless for _her_) after a moment's pause.

The young woman appeared rather startled by the sound of my voice, as if she'd forgotten that I was even there. "Oh, uh, y-yes, sir, I'm to relay a message to you: The captain told me to inform you that he would prefer to see you in his quarters _now_ instead of _later_. . .sir," she added quickly when she saw me quirk my eyebrow. The twitch (of course) hadn't been intended to intimidate her, I was simply confused as to why the captain requested my presence _now_.

"Is it of dire urgency that I see him?" I said, trying to get as much information out of her as possible.

'More information' didn't turn out to be as much as I'd hoped for.

"I-I dunno, he just told me to find you and tell you to go to his room ASAP, sir," she said, blinking her big, dumb eyes as if so many thoughts in her little head would cause a massive implosion.

With another sigh, I nodded and bid her leave, and after another moment of room-eye exploration, she let me be (_finally_). I allowed approximately three minutes to pass before I followed her suit and began down the halls again towards his quarters.

My heart had begun beating once more, but it was hitting me far too hard to be healthy. What was _wrong_ with me?!

Arriving at his door, I pressed the button and waited until I heard him say that I could enter.

"Come!" his voice calmly boomed. I obeyed his command and was surprised to find the temperature of his quarters about ten degrees warmer. The lights were also dimmed perhaps by eighty-six percent, making it somewhat difficult to see, but not too terribly so.

"Sir, is there something wrong with the heating and lighting of your room?" I asked, trying to see him through the semidarkness as the door closed behind me.

"Hmm?" came his murmur, "Oh, no, nothing's wrong with them. I just felt like a change was in order, that's all." I heard a soft drumming and I saw his fingertips tapping against his countertop gently as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. "Would you like a drink, Mr. Spock?"

"No, thank you, Captain, I am not thirsty at this point in time," I said, my throat dry as I watched the outline of his shoulders shrug. 'Not thirsty' my ass.

As his hands moved to the black confines of the cabinet at his legs, I watched him, much like I had on the bridge. My eyes roved over his hair, the thick strands taking whatever light was left and throwing it back full-throttle. His back curved as his knees unbended themselves, standing straight again as he closed the cabinet door and placed a bottle of wine on the counter. He turned his head to his shoulder to look at me, and his hazel eyes glittered.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" he asked slowly once he saw me staring at him, his words coming out as a husky purr while a grin tugged at his lips. Was I imagining things, or was he --?

"Nothing, Captain," I said quietly, glaring away to the ground.

"_Jim_," he corrected sharply, "My _name _is _Jim_."

". . . . Why do you _insist _on having me call you by your first name?" I asked after a while, still quiet, still looking away.

"Because, _Spock_," -- he said my own name almost pointedly to get my attention -- "when we're off duty -- and even _on_ duty, if you wish -- I would very much so like to drop the formalities with you. I mean, we're friends, and that's what friends do. . . . We _are_ friends, aren't we?" he asked when I said nothing, and I was surprised to hear a small note of panic in his voice.

"Yes. . ._Jim_," I breathed, daring to glimpse back to him once more. He turned to face me fully, and his smile broadened. It was the kind of smile that showed almost all of his teeth in a beautiful way and seemed to make his eyes dance with laughter.

"Good," he whispered, still grinning that same wonderful smile, moving towards me with glass in hand. Stopping just short in front of me, he sipped his wine and peered up at me over the rim, his lips parted and his eyes half-lidded almost coyly. "Are you _sure_ you don't want anything?" he purred, still gazing at me around his glass as if he wasn't ready to put it down yet, even though he was no longer drinking from it.

For the first time since I'd been there, I was glad that it was dark; that way he couldn't see my blush. My eyes kept trying to decide between staring at him and looking at the floor, and they were having a hard time choosing.

I made myself swallow whatever saliva was in my mouth in order to wet down my throat, but there wasn't all that much to work with. Somehow, however, I heard myself say, "I never said I didn't _want_ anything. . . ."

Of all the things I could've said, I said _that_!

My choice of words made him chuckle, though, as he at last placed his wine on the table next to us, glancing away for a moment when he did so.

"Indeed, you didn't," he said, the laughter still in his voice as he looked to me again. I felt a strange sort of tug when I gazed into those eyes, and I couldn't bring myself to turn away again. "So. . .what _do _you want?"

"I. . .do not believe you should know that. . .Jim," I said softly, finally breaking our visual hold on each other as my face became a even darker shade of emerald.

I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face as he regarded me, a slight frown coming to his mouth. "When I ask a question, I expect to get an answer. Now, what do you think I shouldn't know, Spock?" he asked gently, and, if possible, I would've melted on the spot. "What do you want?" he pressed, and with that, he stepped forward a little more and lightly ran his fingers along my chest, commanding me silently to look at him. "Tell me. . ._show _me. . .what you want," he murmured into my ear when he leaned into me, just barely touching me with his own warm body. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath against my neck. He was so warm, so alive, so. . ._there_. And he looked and felt and smelled absolutely _delicious_.

Suddenly, my body wouldn't work for my brain anymore. While my mind screamed "_STOP_!", my body caved and simply. . .gave in to it. To _him_. In less than a second -- or perhaps it took an eternity -- I was upon him, my lips upon his. My arm wrapped around his waist while my other hand cradled his neck, tracing the lines of the bones through the skin.

_His _bones.

_His _skin.

Tongues slipped in between mouths, hands found zippers and buttons, hairs flecked themselves with sweat as our breaths mingled together in short spurts. My fingers were warped into his clothing possessively, and his teeth grazed my tongue and lips as the passion grew. We were locked on the other as if we were drowning, and I knew that we actually were, the waters being our desires.

I moved my face harshly to his throat, down to where it sloped and met the shoulder, and bit gently, sinking myself into his soft flesh. As I suckled and bit harder and harder (while still managing to keep it gentle), I heard him moan. He arched his back and pressed into me, burying his head into my hair while his eyes rolled back to the ceiling.

"Spo. . .ck. . . ." he choked out with a groan, and the noise made me move and breathe harder, my exhaustion long since gone and forgotten. I kissed up his neck to his jaw, then along the line of that until I found his lips. I could feel his knees give way underneath him as he completely relaxed into me, and before he could fall I held him up, the added weight to my arms not even registering in my psyche. Then, slowly, unwilling, I moved my mouth away, allowing him time to breathe, and his eyes were glazed with pleasure.

When I looked all around us, I saw that the room was enshrouded and measured in hues of golds and blacks and reds, and each of the colors signified things that were singular and distinctive. The golds were Jim, his courageousness, his honor, his graciousness and humility all formed together into one to create the entity of perfection that was before and on me. The blacks were mine, the shades of cool logic resonating from every corner of the quarters and my mind and threatening to both destroy me and deliver me, a thing that I feared and longed for.

But the reds were of something else. They were of both of us, all at once, to always be and to never come apart. It took me a moment to understand what they were, but within the instant, I knew. The reds were our integrated. . ._everything_. They were emotions, they were intellect, they were _life_. They told me of all the things that went unsaid and unthought, but were most certainly felt. They told me of the way that the captain -- _my _captain -- had watched me and studied me from afar, and over the years, had slowly begun to fall in love with me, the same that I had done with him in my own time. They told me of all the things that I _needed _to know, but not necessarily _desired _to know. As the information sank in, I knew also what I had to do.

Quiet, tentative, needing lips graced my own as Jim looked up to me, almost afraid to ask what was going on in my mind. I quelled his fears by lightly deepening the kiss, and then, just as gently, I pulled away and let it go. A small sound came through him, his face reaching forward as he tried to kiss me again, but I wouldn't allow it. I couldn't. His mouth touched fingers instead, the two that I held up in front of us, and his eyes -- those great, hazel-tinged orbs -- were filled with hurt. That look almost killed me, but I knew that this could not continue, for if it did, then it would only consume us, and we would be forced into something that would inevitably make us hate each other and _ourselves _later. We would be filled with anger and regret, and I don't think I could be able to survive for very long if I was to despise the man that I loved.

"Captain. . . ." I began, but he interrupted me, not wanting to hear it.

"_Jim_," he said solidly, snapping the quiet in two as 'my' betrayal flared in his features, and his hands gripped me tighter. He didn't want to let me go.

"Captain," I said again, and my words were somber, my eyes close to tears, "We cannot go on like this. If we dare to try, then we will only regret it afterwards. You know this as well as I do, even though you do not wish to admit it. I understand now how you feel about me, and you know that I feel the same for you, but I'm afraid that that was all that was meant to happen this evening. We cannot continue. . . . We are not ready for it, for us, not yet. If we are ever to grow in this relationship, then we must first grow in ourselves. I'm sorry." I whispered the apology to him as I gave him one last embrace, my tears falling like diamonds on his shoulders. "This is the only way for it to truly become anything. If I could, I would give up all the logic in the universe to be here with you, but if I did, then I would have learned _nothing_. It would be better if the stars were to collide than if I were to encourage further actions to occur tonight, no matter how much I want to. But I never want you to believe -- not even for a moment -- that I do not love you, because you are the starlight that I look to for answers. You are, have been, and always will be my T'hy'la, my brother, friend, and lover, my other half that makes me whole."

He said nothing, but he was shaking, and my shirt front was wet, just as I knew his shoulder blades were. I squeezed him more securely, needing to hold him a final time before I could ever let him go. But, alas, all things come to an end, and eventually, I had to stop. Gently pushing him away from me, I saw him look away, ashamed. No, that was not how I wanted to leave him; he was to be ashamed of nothing, as was I. Lifting his chin with my long fingers, I brushed my lips against his, tasting the salt on his mouth from tears of his own.

Pulling back, I looked him in the eyes, only half-aware that I was repeating myself to him: "My starlight. . . . My starlight. . . . My starlight. . . ." His hazel eyes were grave as they gazed into my brown ones, but he understood what I had said and he accepted it. He knew I was right, but neither of us were happy about the fact. Finally, I turned away from him and stepped out his door, forcing myself not to turn back, knowing I would die if I did.

"Spock?" his voice called in a whisper. Do not look back, do _not_ look back, _do not look back_. . . . A pause, then, "You are my starlight."

I stopped where I was, about to turn, about to look, but making myself remain inert. A soft nod, a whoosh as the door shut sharply behind me, then a smile.

I was wrong. This would not be the last time I would ever see him, ever touch him, ever kiss him. No, I was dead wrong. This was only the beginning.

I passed a window on my way back to my quarters, and I glanced out at the star field that surpassed it. All the gems in the black, empty sky were deathly bright, but none so intensely dazzling as _my_ gem, my _Jim_.

My starlight, my starlight, my starlight. . . .

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A.N. 2: _Yeeeeeeaaaaaah_. . .bleh. . . . Well, I _said_ it was going to be SHORT! But did _you_ believe me? _Nooooooo_. Next time, LISTEN, people. Tee-hee! Well, anyway, R&R, y'all! Loves! Ha-ha! :D


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